


Shit Luck – Epilogue

by Sasou_Amalie



Series: Shit Luck [2]
Category: Days Gone (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Blood, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship, Past Relationship(s), Post-Apocalypse, Smut, Swearing, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasou_Amalie/pseuds/Sasou_Amalie
Summary: Deacon and Sarah just escaped NERO and Alex is riding solo again.
Relationships: Deacon St. John/OC, Deacon St. John/Sarah Whitaker
Series: Shit Luck [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537462
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Shit Luck didn't feel properly finished, so I fixed that with this epilogue.  
This might turn into something more if I feel like it.
> 
> Have fun reading :)

Boozer was rudely awakened by someone busting through the door to his cabin.  
"The hell?" he grumbled and rubbed his eyes before he looked at Rikki, who stood in the middle of the room.  
"William," she panted. "We need you at the gate. It’s Deacon."  
His stomach dropped. "What happened to him?" he asked, his voice wavering.  
"God, Boozeman, nothing," Rikki laughed with joy. "Guards spotted him way up the road. He’s back."  
They jogged towards the gate and arrived the moment it opened, and there he was, his face beaten and tired, clothes ripped, covered in dirt and dried blood, barely able to hold himself up on his bike, but alive. Sarah sat behind him, her hands tightly wrapped around his chest, her bruised face with closed eyes almost completely hidden behind his shoulder.  
"I can’t believe you made it," Boozer grinned, walking towards both of them. "Little sister, I’m glad to have you back," he said softly as he helped her off the bike and gave her a long hug.  
"It's good to be back," she sighed with relief.  
Lost Lakes head of security shot Deacon a questioning look over her shoulder, which the Drifter answered with a light shake of his head.  
"Let’s get you inside," Rikki said, leading Sarah into the encampment, towards the main lodge.  
"What happened?", Boozer quietly asked his friend.  
"She’s gone," Deacon said in a way that told Boozer everything he needed to know.  
"I’m sorry, brother," he said, patting his friend on the shoulder.

***

Alex stood hunched over a dried-up bush somewhere in the vicinity of Seattle and retched.  
"Goddammit," she cursed under her breath before she threw up again.That stomach bug she’d been fighting for the past few days was really taking a toll on her.  
She wiped her mouth and leaned on her bike to catch her breath.  
"Never gonna eat fuckin’ wolf meat again," she muttered and closed her eyes as another wave of nausea hit her. If the freaks didn’t kill her, this bug and the constant sickness certainly would, since she couldn’t keep anything down besides water at this point. Even thinking about food made her stomach turn.  
She spat on the ground before mounting her bike and firing up the engine.

Maybe she’d reach the city today, given she’d find a good place to set up camp, she’d even be able to get some rest for a few days.  
She drove off and her mind wandered, she thought about Lost Lake and her heart palpitated painfully inside her chest. _Addy would’ve known what to do,_ she thought, staring at the miles and miles of road ahead of her. There was not a soul outside, only abandoned, ransacked cars as far as her eyes could see. She sighed and looked for an off-road trail, since the bunched vehicles in the distance choked up the entire road.  
The female Drifter wondered if Deacon and Sarah ever made it someplace safe, maybe back to Lost Lake even.  
Alex spotted a trail diverging from the road, heading into a plain filled with dried up cornfields and uphill after that. She carefully maneuvered her bike onto the dusty ground and rolled through rows of bent plants. _God, this is depressing_, she pondered, revving the engine to make it up the slope.

She noticed the static-like noises half way up the hill and goosebumps wandered across her arms at the familiarity of the sound. The Drifter came to a halt at the cusp and let her gaze wander along the horizon. She spotted a NERO checkpoint in the distance, right next to a massgrave crawling with freaks.  
A feeling of hopelessness befell her as she watched the horde scramble, tearing apart meat lumps that barely resembled human bodies. This was the new normal. She felt like the last living person on earth, the sudden loneliness manifested in the form of an overwhelming tiredness that spread through her entire body.  
She sighed and braced herself for a detour through the patchy woods in order to avoid the horde, hopeful she’d finally make it to Seattle.

***

Boozer found Deacon on one of the piers overlooking the lake.  
"Here you are," his low voice sounded "Sarah’s been asking for you."  
"How’s she?" the Drifter inquired, still staring at the water.  
"Besides two slightly fractured ribs, a sprained wrist and multiple bruises, she’s fine," his friend answered.  
"Good," Deacon sighed and let his shoulders hang. The two bikers stood in silence as the sun slowly set and the darkness of the night spread over the lake.  
"You’re in love with her, aren’t you?" Boozer asked quietly and Deacon finally turned his head to look at him.  
"Boozer–," he began warily.  
"Frankly, I had a feeling this would happen the moment you brought her with you four years ago. There was something about her…" Boozers voice trailed off.  
"Yeah? Like what?" Deacon asked, his tone tired.  
"Dunno, her lightheartedness maybe?" Boozer tried to explain. "She was the only one who made you forget."  
"Forget?"  
"Maybe ‚forget‘ is the wrong word," the biker mused. "While she was around, you didn’t dwell in the past as much, hell, she made the both of us less miserable." He chuckled softly at the memories of the three of them riding together. "So what are you gonna do?" he wanted to know.  
"Nothing much," Deacon replied husk. "I don't have the slightest idea where she went."  
"Have you told Sarah–," the bald biker began, but was interrupted by his friend.  
"There’s nothing to tell," Deacon said gruffly, however he couldn’t fool Boozer.  
"Geez, alright," he said and raised his palm in defense.  
Deacon removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair.  
"Guess there’s nothing left to do," he let out an exhausted sigh. "Just gotta get over it."  
Boozer didn’t say anything, he just stood next to his friend, put his remaining hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly before he turned around and left Deacon alone again.


	2. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon's on a mission and Alex still tries to find her way to Seattle.

Sarah woke up the second the door clicked shut. She turned around only to find the twisted sheets next to her cold and empty.  
"Dammit Deacon," she mumbled under her breath and slipped out from under the covers. She pulled the bathrobe she’d hastily thrown on tight around her body and walked through the lodge. One quick glimpse told her that all his guns were still there, except for the leg holster that usually hung off one of the chairs in the kitchen. This was the third time in two weeks he’d snuck out like this. Sarah stepped towards the door, halfheartedly expecting to find him sitting on the porch cause he couldn’t sleep, but there was no one around.  
She shivered as the cold air relentlessly crept through the thin fabric of her threadbare robe and threw a quick glance across the sleeping Lost Lake camp before she went back inside.

***

Deacon carefully rolled his bike towards the gate, only to find Blair standing next to it. The gun merchant gently shifted her rifle as soon as she recognized him.  
"It’s a little late for a run, don’t you think?" she asked and cocked a brow.  
"There’s something I gotta take care of," Deacon answered vaguely.  
"In the middle of the night?" Blair inquired.  
"Yeah, I’ve got trouble sleeping," he retorted and pushed his bike past her.  
"Let me open the gate for you," Blair sighed, slinging the rifle onto her back before she pulled the gate open just wide enough to let Deacon out.  
He mounted the saddle and turned around, his gaze catching Blairs.  
"Not a word to Boozer or Rikki about this," he requested in a low voice. "Don’t want to worry them, okay?"  
"Just be safe, alright?" Blair replied as she locked the gate behind him.  
"Sure," he said and rolled a few meters down the driveway before he fired up the engine and disappeared into the night.

He was out of breath as he reached the platform, his fingers cold and stiff from the persistent wind that accompanied him his whole climb up the radio tower.  
The Drifter coughed and leaned on the handrail to rest, his gaze wandered along the landscape covered in powdery snow. He knew his chances were slim to none with the winter breathing down his neck, but he at least had to try.  
Deacon cleared his throat and brought the radio closer to his lips.  
"Shaw, come in, this is St. John," he said, his voice low and husk. "Alex, do you copy?"  
An exasperated sigh left his throat as only buzzing static answered. He softly shook his head and tried again.  
"Alex, come in, this is Deacon," he mumbled into the wind. "I just need to know that you’re alive, okay?" His voice broke and he clenched his fist.  
"I get that you had to leave, Alex, I really do… It’s just…" he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I just wanna believe that you’re still out there, you know?" He laughed softly, when – all of a sudden – a feeling of shame surged inside his chest. Deacon lowered the radio and rubbed his face when he realized that he was betraying Sarah, over and over again.  
This wasn’t who he wanted to be and it needed to stop right then and there.  
He let out a silent sigh as he strapped the radio to his cut and leaned on the bannister.  
The onerous descent down the radio tower could wait.

***

Alex staggered through an abandoned and ransacked drugstore she’d found next to a small settlement, looking for medicine that might help with the constant nausea, but most of the shelves had been emptied already.  
The last few days started to take a toll on her, she’d barely been eating or sleeping, her head was pounding, her hands shaking.  
"Dammit Shaw, keep it together," she mumbled and wiped beads of sweat off her forehead. There was no time to fall apart, although this place appeared to be rather safe. She rummaged through the dusty shelves, opening boxes and crates, when she accidentally pushed a carton off the other end and the contents spilled on the floor.  
"Shit!" she hissed and looked at the mess she made, a couple dozen keychains were scattered across the worn out linoleum. A sudden cold sensation spread from the back of her neck throughout her entire body before she blacked out and collapsed on the floor.  
  
Panic trickled down her spine as she opened her eyes and everything around her was pitch black.  
Her heart raced, she rolled to the side and tried to remember where she was.  
"God!", she groaned the second she touched her head, which was still prodding and spinning. She carefully pushed herself off the floor on her hands and knees and crawled towards the counter she'd seen in the back of the store. Her body ached with exhaustion while her empty stomach gnawed at her insides. As soon as she made it to the cash desk, she curled up in the corner of the wall, using her backpack as a pillow, her leather jacket as a blanket and drifted off into a feverish sleep.

Voices and noises outside jolted Alex out of her depletion-induced coma. It took her a split second to orient herself inside the room. She was still curled up behind the counter, the closest exit was a door all the way across the store, leading to the office space behind it.  
"Fuck," she cursed under her breath and slid into an upright position with her back stabilized by the wall before she concentrated on the conversation taking place in front of the store.  
"I found a bike out back," she heard a female voice. "It’s very well taken care of."  
"You think there’s someone inside?", someone retorted in a low tone.  
"I’m not sure, the engine’s cold, there are no tracks–"  
"Let’s just be careful," a third person chimed in.  
"What if they are not alone?" the deep voice asked.  
"As I said, be careful," the person who obviously called the shots instructed the others. "We’ll stay close I case something happens."

Alex knew that she was fucked, there was no way she’d make it out in time considering the shape she was in. She heard heavy footsteps approaching, goosebumps spread across her arms as soon as she spotted the beam of a flashlight wandering across the walls. The female Drifter slowly shifted her weight and pulled the gun from behind her back.The guy was moving through the aisles, away from her. She could see his silhouette against the reflection of his flashlight and her heart sunk, he was huge, she’d barely have a chance if it came down to a fight. He walked over to the storefront and peeked outside the window in the door before he turned around and walked towards the cash desk she was hiding behind.  
Alex took a deep breath and cocked her gun the second he came around the counter.

"Drop your fucking weapon!" she yelled, causing him to flinch so hard his flashlight fell to the floor. It rolled behind the desk and stopped pointed to the wall, indirectly illuminating the bizarre scene of a bloody-faced Alex propped up in the corner, clinging onto her gun.  
The guy standing across from her was big with broad shoulders, his hair hidden underneath a dark, woolen beanie. An unkempt full beard graced the lower part of his face, the combination with his worn out flannel and a bootcut jeans falling over heavy worker boots gave him the look of a rugged lumberjack. Alex put the finger on the trigger, a grim look crossing her face.  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he rumbled. "Easy." He slowly crouched down and placed his weapon on the ground. "I’m not gonna hurt you."  
A wry laugh fell from her lips, but Alex kept her gun locked on his chest. She knew better than to trust strangers.  
"What happened to your face?" the guy asked, still squatting roughly two meters away from her. "You’re bleeding."  
Alex touched her forehead and felt something sticking to her fingers, the half-dried blood tinting her fingertips red.  
"I fell," she rasped and closed her eyes.  
"Come on, let me help you," he suggested.  
"N– no!" Alex growled, her hands on the gun shaking.  
"Alright, then I’m just gonna sit with you for now," he stated, holding his palms up, signaling her that he didn’t mean any harm.  
"Fine," she huffed, barely able to hold her aim as her eyes kept falling shut.  
"What’s your name?" the stranger inquired. Alex stared into his eyes, there was nothing but genuine concern in them.  
"–lex," she sighed, close to passing out.  
"Hey, hey," he said while carefully moving towards her. "Stay with me, Lex."  
The Drifter whimpered, her feeble hands sinking to her lap, tears of exhaustion running down her cheeks.

"Ryan, are you okay?" a female voice echoed through the room.  
"Shit," he hissed the second he felt the cold steel of the muzzle pressed to his temple.  
"You’re gonna help me out of here," Alex whispered, pushing herself up against the wall, holding him at gunpoint.  
"Ryan?" the voice repeated with a hint of concern.  
"I’m fine!" he bellowed, causing Alex to flinch at the sheer volume. "Be there in a minute!"  
She grabbed him by his arm. "Move!" she growled and he started walking towards the backroom, her gun now pressed between his shoulder blades.  
"We could help you, you know," he said in his low voice. "I mean I can see that you’re sick."  
"Shut the fuck up," she breathed, her steps tired and jittery. Ryan threw her a glance over his shoulder, she tried to mask her pain underneath a hard expression. "Just bring me to my fuckin’ bike."  
The second she finished her sentence he felt her grip on his arm loosen. Ryan quickly turned around and managed to catch her just before she hit the floor again.  
"I’m gonna need some help over here!", he shouted, cradling the pale and feverish woman in his arms.


	3. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and Sarah are still at odds, Alex's fate depends on the kindness of strangers.

"You got any idea why my husband keeps sneaking out in the middle of the night?" Sarah asked, sitting down in the lawn chair next to Boozers. "Ugh, it feels like he’s trying to avoid me."  
She sighed and looked at her friend, who mirrored her expression with cocked brows.  
"That man has been living without you for the better part of four years, might need some gettin’ used to having his old lady back for good, you know?"  
Sarah shielded her eyes against the sun and leaned back. There was no accusation in his tone, yet his statement kinda felt like one, but maybe she was just being sensitive about the subject.  
She knew that she’d been selfish and although her reasons were right, the guilt for abandoning her husband still brewed in her stomach. They had come so close to fixing this mess, her vaccine was able to reverse almost all the effects of the bioweapon the government secretly developed behind their backs. Now it was up to O’Brian to save the world.  
Sarah let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, letting the sunlight warm her face.  
"Just give the man some time," Boozer said. "I know he’ll come around."

***

Despite having decided to stop trying to contact her a few weeks ago, Deacon found himself up on the platform again. He stood in front of the banister, thick snowflakes falling down on him and the world at his feet. Eight weeks had passed since he finally found Sarah and freed her from the grasp of NERO, but somehow he still couldn’t find peace.  
"You’re a fucking idiot, St. John," he muttered under his breath while he rubbed his freezing hands together.  
After countless days out in the shit he had a hard time settling back into the quiet comfort of camp life. Waking up in a warm bed, his wife laying next to him was everything he ever dreamt of for the past two years, but now it felt like he was living someone else’s life.  
He and Sarah danced around each other like strangers, both uncomfortably aware of the distance between them, neither one of them brave enough to tear down the wall the time apart had built.  
Between loaded looks and exasperated sighs Deacon felt a constant pull, a yearning to ride the broken road so he could feel something again.  
He let his head hang in resignation and pulled the collar of his jacket up to his neck to keep the snowflakes from seeping into his clothes.  
Soon the relentless cold would freeze over the snow and close off all the trails snaking across the mountains until next spring.  
He wondered if Alex had already made it north, if she found a safe place to stay for the winter.  
God, he desperately hoped that she was okay.  
  
Deacon sighed and blew some warmth into the hollow between his palms to prepare himself for the way down the tower, when his radio came to life with a static crackle. His heart skipped a beat and he hurried to grab the device.  
"St. John, come in," a voice sounded from the speaker. "St. John, do you copy?"  
"O’Brian?" Deacon answered, barely able to contain his disappointment.  
"Glad to hear you’re alive, Drifter," O’Brian said, followed by a rough laugh. "How’s Sarah?"  
"She’s fine," Deacon retorted curtly to cut the conversation short. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about his wife.  
"That’s good," the researcher muttered, his voice trailing off like he was busy with something else.  
"What have you been up to?" Deacon inquired. "Guess your higher-ups weren’t to happy about you helping the creator of the vaccine escape."  
"I– uh– managed to gather a small group of NERO scientist and soldiers and we’re trying to finish what Sarah started. We’ve been moving between the abandoned field offices in the area, skimming them for notes and resources, colleagues have stumbled about some pointers, nothing that led to a breakthrough though." O’Brian explained. "The plan is to make it to one of our former laboratories in Seattle for some further testing of the serum your wife developed. Maybe there’s a way to reverse this whole shitshow after all…"  
"I sure hope so," Deacon mumbled, thinking about the moment the researcher took off his helmet and revealed his altered appearance to them. "You made it this far already."  
He lowered the radio and waited for a reply, but there was nothing but static crackling filling the cold winter air.  
"Listen, O’Brian, I never got the chance to thank you," Deacon said, his mind taking him back to the plain in the woods, Sarah in the hands of NERO. "You saved our asses. Again."  
"Not that you needed it," the researcher retorted with a soft laugh. "I mean everyone except for the guard who took Sarah was already dead when I arrived, so…"  
"Everyone was dead?" Deacon asked sharply.  
"Don’t know how you did it, but I’m sure you would’ve found a way to get rid of the last one as well."  
"O’Brian, wait," the Drifter rasped. "You didn’t take down the NERO soldier who had me captured?"  
"What?… No." O’Brian retorted, confusion clouding his voice. "I thought you’d done that."  
"His fuckin’ head had been blown off his shoulders!" the Drifter snarled.  
"Yeah, well, doesn’t sound like something a handgun or automatic rifle could do," the researcher sighed, and everything suddenly fell into place.  
"Alex," Deacon breathed. There was no other way, she must’ve been there, hidden in the hills, like a twisted version of a guardian angel, making sure that he and Sarah made it out alive. "Fuck."  
"What’s wrong, St. John?", O’Brians voice croaked from the speaker.  
"Nothing," Deacon replied in a rush. "Gotta go, St. John out."

***

"Hey Lex," a gravelly voice greeted her softly, a callous thumb gently brushing over her knuckles.  
Her lids were still heavy with sleep as she forced them open, a distant ache pounding in her head, a bitter taste in her dry mouth. The guy she’d met at the abandoned drugstore was sitting on the left side of her bed, holding her hand in his palm. He’d exchanged his flannel for a simple long-sleeved shirt, his mane of brown hair was gathered into a messy bun at the back of his head. His gaze was warm with compassion as a wry smile crossed his lips.  
"Glad to see you back with us."  
"Water," she croaked and she heard someone rustle to her right before a cup was held to her lips.  
"Take it slow," a female voice instructed her, while she took some small and careful sips.  
"Thank you," Alex breathed and turned her head to get a look at her caretaker. The woman’s auburn hair fell in front of her face as she tidied the cup and medical paraphernalia away, before she finally turned around and met her patient with a bright smile.  
"You’re a trooper," she remarked with a hint of amusement on her tone, putting her hand on the Drifters arm, squeezing it gently. "Ryan was right to bring you in, you were seriously dehydrated and weakened by a fever, but we finally managed to bring your temperature down. I can’t believe you still put up a fight with Ryan, given the shape you were in."  
"She’s a feisty one," a chuckle rumbled through the guys chest as he shifted his weight and got up. "I just wanted to make sure you’re okay before I leave the camp. I’ll be back in a few weeks, until then the lovely Amber will keep you company."  
"I am so sorry," Alex sighed and squeezed his hand before he let hers go.  
"Don’t be," he returned. "Just get well soon, okay?" The Drifter answered with a crooked smile before she sunk back into the pillow and Ryan left the room.  
  
"Where the fuck am I?", Alex asked, her voice straining.  
"Fircrest Community, Tacoma," Amber replied, fixing the drip infusion besides Alex’s bed. "Do you recall anything that happened before you woke up?"  
Alex carefully shook her head as Amber looked at her with brows furrowed over her bright, green eyes.  
"Ryan and his crew brought you in three days ago, they found you in an abandoned building in the woods of Mount Rainier with a bleeding gash on your forehead."  
Alex’s fingertips wandered along her hairline until she felt the bulging scar held together by a few stitches.  
"We did our best to fix you up," Amber said softly. "But this will leave a scar."  
"Great, just another one added to the collection." Alex gave her a wry grin. "Who are those guys that brought me in?"  
"Ryan, Hailey and Isobel are from a camp somewhere around Boise, they’ve been coming here every few months for the past four years, trading some of their supplies for medicine."  
"My bike." Alex gasped in a sudden realization, trying to fight off the exhaustion that spread through her entire body and threatened to pull her under again.  
"It’s right outside." Amber soothed her patient when she saw the worry in the Drifters face.  
"Good," Alex sighed, right before she slipped away again.


	4. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon comes to a realization and tries to finally move on.

Deacon rode through the night, shrouded in thick snowflakes, barely able to make out the asphalt in front of him. His earlier realization was still brewing inside him, his emotions oscillating between seething anger directed at Alex for patronizing him and relief because she wanted him to choose his wife and made sure he saw it through.  
He knew it was time to finally honor Alex’s decision, to make up with Sarah for all the time they’d lost so he hurried back towards Lost Lake.  
Sure, it would be one hell of a challenge to let go of the resentment he felt towards his wife for leaving him behind without even considering his opinion, but they’d simply have to work through it.  
Their relationship had weathered much harsher storms and a new found optimism made the weight on his shoulders feel a little lighter.

***

The Drifter stepped inside the small lodge he and Sarah called home and hurried to shrug his drenched jacket off his shoulders, before the dripping water got the chance to turn the small rug in the hallway into a bathmat.  
He wiped his face with his sleeve, removed his cap and brushed a bunch of wet hair strands behind his ears as he sauntered towards the table to retire his holster on one of the chairs.  
"Where – _the fuck _– have you been?" Sarah asked in a low voice, startling Deacon. He turned his face and saw her standing in the dimly lit kitchen, one of his worn out flannels draped across her shoulders, her fingers clutching a gigantic mug of what could only be herbal tea.  
"Did you really think you’d be able to slip out into the night every few days without me noticing?" the tone was icy, her scowl underlined how furious she was with him.  
He carefully placed revolver and cap on the table with a sigh, then faced his wife again.  
"Look, Sarah, I just needed to clear my head," he said, lifting his hands in defeat.  
"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me," she scoffed, slamming her mug on the kitchen counter and the Drifter furrowed his brows, wondering if someone had told her about Alex.  
  
"Just say it, Deacon!" she challenged him, a malcontent glint in her eyes, but her husband remained silent. Her aura of supressed frustration was palpable throughout the room and he instantly knew he’d have to tread lightly.  
"Say. IT!" she growled, moving towards him.  
"I don’t know what you wanna hear from me," he bit back, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.  
"God, you’re impossible!" she huffed, pacing up and down the kitchen.  
"Sarah," he pleaded softly, trying to catch her gaze.  
"I don’t know what happened while I was gone," his wife sighed and stopped in her tracks to look him in the eyes. "But you’re being distant and I don’t know how to deal with that."  
"I’m keeping my distance because I don’t wanna pressure you."  
"How would you pressure me?" she retorted. "You’re barely around!"  
"Yeah, because the last time we spend cooped up in a camp together, you felt the need to get the fuck away from me the first chance you got!" he bellowed, causing her to flinch under his tone.  
"That’s not true!" she defended herself.  
"You fuckin’ radioed O’Brian and practically _begged_ him to take you to NERO!"  
"You're not the reason I left, Deacon, and you know it!" Sarah yelled.  
"I spend two fuckin’ years out in the shit, fighting for my life because I was too damn stubborn to give up on you! Even joined that bullshit-militia, posing as your glorified errand-boy just to stay close and keep you safe!" he pressed through gritted teeth to keep himself from screaming out his frustration. "I went through hell and high water for you, Sarah, so you could do what? Bail on me the second life returned to normal? I fuckin' vowed to never leave you!" He was breathing heavily, staring at his speechless wife.  
Silence spread between them and Deacon felt the exhaustion in his bones. All he wanted was to finally catch a breath, to live the life that had been ripped from his hands years ago.  
  
"It felt like you’d given up on me," he husked.  
"Deek," she pleaded, her voice breaking.  
"Don’t," he growled as she moved towards him. Letting his head hang, he braced himself on the table and took a few deep breaths with his eyes closed.  
"Deacon," she tried again, her hurt tone resonating deep inside his chest.  
He turned his head, his gaze meeting hers across the kitchen table, her desperate expression mirroring his own defeat.  
"I love you," she whispered and he closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his lips colliding with hers.  
  
He dug his hands into her hair and backed her up against the kitchen counter, while Sarahs fingers were busy at his belt. She gasped in surprise when he grabbed her by the thighs and dropped her on the cold worktop, a smirk curled his lips as he pulled her underwear down her thighs. Sarah grabbed the collar of his ragged shirt and dragged him closer, her teeth worrying his bottom lip, causing him to groan and buck into her.  
Deacon wasted no time unbuttoning his jeans and pushing down his boxers before he pulled her hips closer to the edge and eased into her.  
He deepened the kiss, his longing breaking inside his chest like a wave. God, how he had missed feeling this close to Sarah, overwhelmed by raw feelings he broke away and leaned his forehead against hers.  
Sarahs held on to his taut shoulders, her nails digging crescent marks into his skin, as Deacon picked up the pace, the pent-up aggression keeping both of them teetering on knife’s edge.  
"Fuck, Deek," Sarah breathed hot against his collarbone, her legs weakening with every rasp moan that left his lips. She felt like her nerve endings were on fire, electric currents spreading throughout her body.  
A string of moans fell from her mouth and she closed her eyes, readying herself to melt into him, when he suddenly stilled his movements and pulled back.  
Her lids fluttered open the second the warmth of his skin faded away and it took her a few seconds to fix her gaze.  
"Deacon?" she whispered, furrowing her brows.  
"Oh, sorry, thought you were done," he grinned, trying to catch his breath. "My bad."  
"God, you’re such an asshole," she chuckled, playfully aiming to slap him, but he dodged the blow.  
"Let’s take this to the bed then," he laughed quietly, before he kissed her gently, lifted her off the counter and carried her towards the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, there we go with some surprise smut.  
Hope you enjoyed the read, feel free to leave some feedback :)


	5. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is desperate to return to the broken road, but unanswered questions are holding her back.

Alex remained motionless underneath her blanket and kept her eyes squeezed shut until she was sure Amber had left the doctors office. After another three days of strict bedrest she had enough. It was time to finally leave this camp, get back on the road towards Seattle, but there was something she had to take care of before she could leave.  
Her lids fluttered open to total darkness and it took a good minute until she was able to orient herself in the room. Staring at the makeshift dividers made from wooden laths and sheets, she took a few deep breaths before she finally swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. The cold of the tiles underneath her bare feet made her shiver as she carefully padded through the room, looking for something resembling a medicine cabinet.  
Alex carefully snuck into the space next door and sighed with relief when she realized that she’d found Ambers office, a windowless cube in the middle of the house. She made sure that there was no soul to be seen, and proceeded to turn on the tiny lamp in the corner of the desk so she could take a careful look around.  
Handwritten documents were sprawled across the whole desk, Alex studied them but wasn’t able to decrypt the narrow handwriting, a half emptied mug stood next to a dried up sandwich, silent witnesses of a sloppy lunch. Her glance stuck on a framed picture of Amber next to a strawberry blonde woman, maybe her younger sister and she wondered if the doctor had lost her whole family as well. She tore her gaze away and there it finally was: a vintage apothecary cabinet next to the desk. Alex hurried to open the first drawer, it held a wide variety of pills, all of them expired, but it was the only thing they had these days. Other drawers contained cotton swabs, gauze and bandages, disinfectant, ointments, surgical needles and thread.  
She was ready to give up, when she hastily opened one of the lower drawers and found a promising carton all the way in the back. The Drifter wrapped her fingers around one of the packages inside and pulled it out, when the neon lights above her head suddenly came to life.  
"Did you find what you were looking for?", she heard Ambers low voice coming from the door, causing her to freeze as a cold sensation trickled down her spine.  
Before she could hide her find in her robe, Amber was at her side and snatched it from her hand.  
"Shit," she pressed through gritted teeth and looked at Alex.  
"Yeah, you don’t say," the Drifter huffed, leaning onto the wooden tabletop.  
"I’ve been suspecting something like this," Amber said, brows furrowed in sorrow. "How far along are you?"  
"A little over eight weeks I guess," Alex crossed her arms in front of her chest. "But there could be a million reasons why I’m late." She gave Amber a hopeful look, when deep down inside she already knew the truth: the night at the fire lookout tower had not been without consequences, for her at least.  
"I can keep you company if you need some support," Amber suggested and handed Alex the pregnancy test. "You do what you have to do while I fix us some tea, okay? Toilet’s down the hall, on the left."  
"Thank you," Alex breathed and left the room.  
  
Amber placed a steaming mug in front of Alex, who stared at the test she held in her hand, and sat down across the table.  
"Is that a second line?" the Drifter asked, squinting at the result window. "It’s so faint, I can barely see it."  
She handed the test over to the doctor.  
"Those things are probably expired, like all the stuff we have," Amber pondered as she took a closer look. "But yeah, I think it’s positive."  
"Fuckin' hell," Alex cursed weakly. Her heart palpitated painfully inside her chest when she thought about Adam and how the both of them had decided not to have kids on a particularly rainy day they’d spend on the couch, because they loved their life and didn’t want it to change.  
"What the fuck am I supposed to do?"  
"How did it happen?" Amber inquired. "If you don’t mind me asking. I mean… did someone…"  
"No!" the Drifter refused. "Nothing like that. God!" She laughed bitterly. "Fuck, it’s just… ugh."  
She shook her head while glancing at the positive pregnancy test and thought about Deacons peaceful expression as he was lying next to her in the blueish tint of dusk, sound asleep, his arm sprawled across her chest.  
She remembered how much it hurt to leave him behind like that, when all she wanted was more time with him. Time that could never be rightfully hers, cause he was married, and the both of them were out there to find his wife. "It’s was this– It was stupid." She sighed heavily.  
"Well, I’ve got some chamomile tea and kettle full of water on the stove, so…" Amber studied her patient over the rim of her mug as Alex took a deep breath to center herself.  
"I don’t feel like talking about it," the Drifter evaded and took a sip of tea to gain a few seconds. "Had a hard time getting over… the whole situation."  
Instead of answering, Amber moved her hand across the table and grabbed Alex’s to squeeze it in solidarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well [addictedreader94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedreader94/pseuds/addictedreader94), you've been right all along.


	6. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haunting thoughts keep Deacon up at night and Sarah has trouble sorting out her feelings.

Deacon was lying on his back, staring at the knotholes in the wooden ceiling above him, his mind wandering. The vague sensation of contentment forming inside his chest collided with the sorrow churning in his stomach, culminating in a wave of dread washing over him. He felt beads of sweat rolling down the temples of his throbbing head and decided to get a glass of water.  
Cautious not to wake his wife, he got out of bed and slunk into the main room of the lodge.  
The world outside appeared unusually bright for nighttime, causing Deacon to walk over to the window. He was surprised to see even thicker snowflakes falling from the sky, covering the entire camp under a thick, white glaze.  
"Fuckin’ winter," he huffed, placing his hot forehead against the cool glass of the window.  
He thought about Alex and wondered if she’d found shelter from the cold, a nice camp where she’d be able sit this weather out. Deacon noticed a heat burning through his insides because he got to stay inside this warm, perfect bubble that could be his life from now on, while she was probably still out there, fighting the cold, hunger or worse.  
Maybe it had been a mistake to stop looking for her already, he should have tried harder. Alex had saved both of their lives, he should've returned the favor.  
"Godammit!" he cursed under his breath, placed his palm on the glass surface and closed his eyes.

***

Sarah woke up freezing, her naked body barely covered by the threadbare sheet, her clothes strewn across the floor.  
The other bedside was abandoned again, bunched up blankets and a dented pillow the only evidence that Deacon had slept next to her at all.  
"Jesus Christ, Deek," Sarah hissed between clenched teeth and gathered his flannel off the floor.  
She carefully snuck out the bedroom and stepped into the kitchen, expecting to find him gone again. To her surprise Deacon’s cap and weapon were still in place on the table, his jeans at her feet on the floor. His name had halfway formed inside her throat when she spotted him standing in front of the window, his forehead and palm pressed against the glass.  
He was wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and the familiar mongrel tattoo caught her gaze for a second. She remembered the day they had tried to escape the ark, only to be stopped by a traitor from the camp she now called home. A burning sensation rose inside her chest and bubbled up her throat when she thought about the way they had cut his shirt open, only to reveal the hellhound biting down on his chain that graced his back before beating him down.  
For him, it had always been a badge of honor, the sign of a brotherhood that gave him pride and a sense of belonging. For the Colonel it was proof that he was a spy and a turncoat, someone who deserved the noose, without questions asked.  
  
That night she twisted and turned on her small cot, fear gnawing at her insides, bile on her tongue whenever she imagined the look Deacon would give her right before they’d string him up, something between commiseration and an apology.  
In the beginning she was sure she’d find a way to save him, but every time one of the guards in front of her tent checked in on her, their self-righteousness chipped away at her hope.  
Morning came around and she braced herself for what was to come, when the commotion inside the ark started. Orders were shouted, soldiers sifted through tents and then there was Weaver.  
Pretending to need her advice on a biochemical weapon, he slipped her a note, signed by Captain Kouri.  
_"The Corporal is safe. Follow orders and stay put, we’ll find a way to get you out. D."  
_She’d thought all the years in this mess had hardened her enough to never feel fear again, but she was wrong. The possibility of losing Deacon had made her sick to her stomach then and she realized nothing had changed about that.  
Sarah stared at her husband and wondered if she’d ever get used to the long hair, his scarred arm or the quiet resentment in his eyes burning holes into her skin she'd carefully thickened over time.  
A soft sigh left her lips and Deacon turned around.  
"This might be the worst snow storm I’ve seen in my entire life," he sighed, looking at her with a tired expression. "We’re in for one hell of a winter."  
"All the more reason to go back to bed," Sarah mumbled, her outstretched arm a delicate peace offering between the both of them.


	7. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has to make a decision before it is too late.

Alex stared out the window, her eyes trained on the thick snowflakes falling silently from the sky, growing increasingly restless at their sight.  
If she wanted to make it out of Fircrest she’d have to leave tonight, but the thought of splitting on Amber, who offered the Drifter her spare room to camp out during winter, made her feel uneasy.  
She’d never been big on goodbyes, especially with people she cared about, hot shame burned in her stomach when she remembered how she’d left Deacon behind, with nothing but a note which barely explained her actions.

Last night, when the doctor took her stitches out, Amber had told her some bits and pieces from her life as a distraction.  
Turns out the name of the strawberry blonde in the picture on her desk is Meghan, she was Ambers younger sister, and they’d grown up in Tacoma. Being born barely two years apart they were very close and big parts of each other lives until Meghan got offered a job at a research facility in Seattle shortly after she’d finished her degree in Environmental Science. A busy schedule and long hours at the lab kept Meg from visiting home, causing them to grow apart. After half a year of sporadic texts, Amber recalled one day with multiple missed calls from her sister when she checked her phone during lunch break, but when she tried to return them, the number was out of service. Worried sick to her stomach she decided to drive over to the city as soon as she was finished with her shift.  
"I remember sitting in my car, stuck in traffic for hours, still trying to get her on the phone, when someone like a guard passed my car and asked me to roll the window down," the Doc sighed and pulled out a suture.  
"Ouch!" Alex hissed, pressing her lips together.  
"He asked me about my destination, and when I told him I wanted to visit my sister in Seattle he said something along the lines ‚I’m sorry Miss, but Seattle is currently closed off to traffic from surrounding areas.‘ and got ready to walk over to the next car when I called him back. I told him about the multiple calls and how I couldn’t reach her, and that I was worried something might have happened to her," Amber mumbled and removed another stitch. "They were wearing masks, so I couldn’t see his expression, but I heard his exasperated sigh. He went on to tell me that I’d have to check in with the nearest NERO checkpoint in order to report a missing relative and went on with his day."  
The Doctor and the Drifter exchanged a look.  
"I soon realized that there was no way in hell I’d make it anywhere on those choked off roads, so I turned around the first chance I got and decided to figure out what to do at home," Amber placed the forceps on a metal tray and inspected the scar on Alex’s forehead. "Hm, not my best work, but the redness should go down with time.  
"I’m just gonna hide it under a beanie or some fancy bangs," Alex joked and gave her a wry smile. "So, did you ever make it through to Seattle?"  
"No," Amber answered simply. "Two days after all hell broke loose."

Alex tried her best to push down the feeling of guilt forming inside her chest when she laced up her boots and tucked the knife into the shaft right next to her ankle. She proceeded to get dressed by pulling an oversized forest green colored sweater over her head. The Drifter blew a few rogue strands of hair out of her face and began plaiting her locks into one big braid that fell on her chest. She rummaged through the closet and found a moth-eaten scarf, fingerless gloves and a knit beanie that should keep her from the cold for the time being and finally turned to her bag. Everything she owned was stashed away neatly, with some added canned food and medicine she’d stolen out of cupboards and cabinets while Amber was working at the practice. Sure, it added some remorse to the mix, but she needed some food to sustain her on her way back to Oregon and Amber wouldn’t even miss a handful of cans.  
The Drifter closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she opened the door and prayed for the hinges to keep quiet. She carefully snuck down the carpeted set of stairs and made her way through the kitchen and then out the back door.  
It was close to full moon, the pale shape illuminated her path over to the garage, which wasn’t even guarded due to the heavy snow. She grabbed one of the smaller containers which would be more than enough to get her out of Tacoma for now and opened the lid to see if there was gasoline in it. After she’d snatched some scrap off the workshop table, she finally went to the practice and found her green machine waiting under a carport. She brushed some stray snowflakes off the seat and instruments, grabbed the bike by the handlebars and pushed her into the night. There was no way to fire the engine up without the risk of waking the people sleeping in their sickbeds, which would probably alarm the camp and mess with her clean getaway.  
Alex made it to one of the service gates in the back of the camp and hid in a bunch of bushes until the guard went on his round along the enclosure. She hurried to get over there, fumbling on the latch with frozen fingers.  
"C’mon, you got this," the mumbled until it gave in and she could pull the gate open wide enough to move her motorcycle through the gap. She made sure the gate was properly closed again before she mounted the saddle and turned the key in the ignition, the motor almost directly coming to life, filling the deafening silence surrounding the Drifter with a comforting full hum.  
Alex hit the throttle and rushed into the night without looking back.

***

Ryan narrowed his eyes, trying hard not to lose sight of the road in the snowstorm that the heavy clouds across the sky had brought upon them.  
"I can’t see shit in this mess!" he cursed, accompanied by the unnerving squeak of the worn-out wipers shoveling snowflakes across the windshield.  
He knew they should’ve left sooner, but he had to make sure that Lex was okay, much to Hailey’s chagrin, who was now sitting on the far right bench seat, staring out the window. She hadn’t spoken to him since that one morning at one of the camps they visited on every way back to their community. They were prepping the truck, loading it up with clothing and other textiles for their encampment, when Hailey took him aside.  
"Norm says a snowstorm is coming our way," she said, glaring at him. "We should’ve gotten on the road way sooner."  
"Don’t worry, we’ll be fine," he dismissed her concerns and turned around to tend to the truck again.  
"I don’t get why you even care about some random chick we picked off the road!" she vented. "But somehow she’s the fucking reason we stayed at Fircrest for two weeks."  
Ryan stopped dead in his tracks and rose his brows at her. "We’re not leaving people for dead!" he growled, pointing his finger at her.  
"We dropped her off at Amber’s, what more did you want?!" Hailey yelled.  
"I wanted to make sure that she was gonna be okay!" he retorted. "She was barely alive when we brought her in."  
"So what? It’s not like she’s one of us!" the female scavenger scoffed, a hostile glint in her eyes.  
"Not one of us?" Ryan repeated her words in a low voice. "She’s trying to survive out here, just like every other human being, which makes her one of US!"  
Hailey flinched under his tone, scowling at her fellow scavenger, a few meters back Isobel dropped a box to the floor and rushed over.  
"You should fix your fuckin’ attitude!" Ryan warned her. "Or it’s gonna come back to haunt you one day."  
"Guys, stop!" Isobel begged as Ryan brushed past her, leaving a speechless Hailey behind.  
  
Mid-thought he got pulled back to reality as Isobel shifted her weight next to him.  
"Stop the car!", she urged, her fingers digging into his arm. "And turn off the engine."  
"Jesus, what now?" Ryan sighed, rolling his eyes, but she shushed him as they moved towards a clearing in the woods.  
"Look," she whispered, pointing into the distance and at first he didn’t know what he was supposed to see.  
"Holy fuck!" he cursed as soon as he realized that the white mass in the distance wasn’t part of the snowstorm. He hurried to turn off the lights and stop the motor, making the gunmetal grey truck almost invisible amongst the trees.  
"There are so many of them!" Isobel breathed, her eyes wide in the dark.  
"Must be one of those hordes everyone keeps talking about," Hailey commented. "Large groups of swarmers migrating through the countryside. They thrive in the cold, that’s why they’re out here."  
"Is there anything we can do?" Isobel inquired, exchanging a look with Hailey.  
"Nothing besides waiting for them to pass."


	8. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's trip goes sideways and Ryan is stuck in a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to continue this, but life got in the way.  
Hope you guys enjoy the ride, let me know what you think :)

After braving the snowstorm for countless hours, Alex finally felt the cold wetness soaking through her clothes, her fingers were frozen to the throttle, unable to move. She’d never make it through the woods in this condition, the realization settled into her stomach like a brick, making her want to scream in frustration.  
"Shit," she cursed as she felt the tires slip on the slick, snowy ground. There was no way she could go any further without the risk of injuring herself. An exasperated sigh left her trembling lips as she slowed down, worry churning in her stomach. She just wanted to make it back to Oregon, back to Lost Lake. Her heart yearned for a place that felt like home and the camp was the closest thing she’d had in years. Sure, her reasons were purely egoistical and her appearance could cause a great deal of problems for a number of people, but she wasn’t thinking straight. The stupid hormones made her sentimental and clouded her judgement and there was nothing she could do about that. For now the weather replaced her common sense and kept her from venturing any further into the forests that separated the two states.  
Alex knew that she needed to find shelter as soon as possible, otherwise she’d freeze to death during the night. She stopped her bike and took a look around the clearing she had reached, trying to remember the location of one of the cabins she’d used as a hideout when she first came to Washington. Something told her that she was close to the foothills of Mount Rainier she had passed on her way towards Seattle, she'd been following the river right next to the 410, which was littered with abandoned cars in the more densely populated areas, for hours on end.  
She carefully steered her green machine onto a path between trees and drove a few miles, by now she was shaking from the cold, her teeth involuntarily clattering, her heart painfully palpitating with fear, since there was now more at stake than her life.

***

The scavenger jumped awake when a scream pierced the night and found himself in front of the steering wheel of their pick-up. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but it was still dark outside. The cold that lingered between the trees had crept inside the truck, his breath formed small, translucent clouds in front of the windshield. He looked to his right and found Isobel’s head resting against his shoulder, Hailey curled up underneath an old blanket right next to her.  
He shifted his weight, slowly in an attempt not to wake the girls, and felt the warm blood return to his extremities as he wiggled fingers and toes, but the weird tightness inside his chest wouldn’t subside.  
There must’ve been something in his dreams, an old pain he couldn’t shake. He sighed and closed his eyes, his fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel as he tried to remember which episode had come to haunt him tonight.  
It was the farmhouse, the weight he felt told him as much. He remembered sitting on an old rug, tensed, listening to the noises outside while he clutched his shotgun, staring at Julianne, his wife, who sat across from him, loading her handgun.  
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his eyebrows furrowed.  
"It’s not your fault," she shut him up, shoving the gun into the holster right next to her ribs.  
"It was my idea to check this camp for supplies," he rasped, trying to read her expression in the twilight of the dying fire next to them, but she turned away.  
"Yeah, well, I could’ve said no," she retorted, a tired smile crossing her lips. "But we’ll need supplies if we wanna make it to Canada."  
He gave her a wry grin, knowing that they’d be fine after a night's rest, there was no time for hurt feelings or grudges anymore.  
"Try to get some sleep," he said quietly, getting up. "I’ll keep my eyes open."  
"God knows we’ll need it," his wife sighed, gathering a few dusty blankets to put them on the worn out mattress right next to the fireplace.  
He threw her a look over his shoulder, which made her smile again.  
"Sleep well," he mumbled, sitting down on a chair right across the entrance, listening to the constant cacophony of noises the horde made on its way through the camp.  
This had been their new normal for two months now, soon after the outbreak they had abandoned their home near Lake Tahoe after realizing it wasn’t safe there anymore. Rumor had it that the virus hadn’t spread to Canada, so they decided to try their luck and head North.  
Jules wanted to take their truck, but Ryan insisted on going by motorbike instead and since the day they’d rolled out of their garage, neither one of them had ever looked back. They spend their days driving through the backcountry, occasionally stopping for gas, food or rest, trying to avoid the so-called freaks and marauders wreaking havoc in the bigger cities. It took some getting used to, but by now they were well attuned to one another.  
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear her coming and flinched as she softly said his name.  
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you," she chuckled, brushing a strand of brown hair out of her face. "I thought you might want to close your eyes for a bit."  
"Yeah, I'm beat," he sighed, pushing himself out of the chair. He felt her hand on his shoulder, right before she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Have a good night," she breathed, pulling the gun from her holster before she plopped down in the chair.  
  
The scavenger jolted out of his slumber, when he heard noises close to the front porch.  
"Ryan!", Julianne screamed his name from somewhere outside and he hurried towards the door while loading the shotgun.  
There she was, right next to their bike, in the chokehold of some stranger.  
"Let her go!" Ryan growled, aiming at the perpetrator.  
"Lower the weapon!" someone yelled from the shadows to his left and Ryan hurried to follow the command.  
"Take anything you want," he tried to negotiate. "But please, let her go." The look of horror in Juliannes face made his stomach twist with fear.  
"Grab everything from inside the house," the marauder instructed his crew. "See if we can use anything stored on the bike."  
Ryan clenched his jaw and tried to find a way out of this. Sure, he had a shot at taking the guy down, but as soon as he’d move a muscle, Jules would take a bullet to the head, given the Marauder had her gun in his hand.  
Instead, he helplessly watched them rummage through their belongings, taking everything they’d arduously gathered together in the past few weeks.  
When they left the house and passed Ryan, one of them struck him down with the butt of his rifle, grinning at him as he fell to his knees.  
"Since I’m not a monster, I’ve decided to leave your bike behind," the Marauder explained, unimpressed by Ryan’s scowl. "I just gotta make sure you’re not able to follow me right away."  
As if by command, the enforced toecap of a work boot collided with his ribs, right before he took another blow to the face. Someone stepped on his hand, and he could feel his bones snap. Unable to fight back, he let out a muffled groan and tried to shield his body from further injuries.  
"Stop!" Julianne yelled, her voice breaking. "Please, just stop!" He heard her sob, as boots and weapons rained down on his aching body.  
"You’re killing him!" she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the Marauder laughed and dragged her further away. "Ryan!"  
He couldn’t take this much longer, blackness threatened his vision as he looked at his wife and he knew he’d pass out soon.  
"Jules," he pressed through gritted teeth, blood spilling from his split lip, when the abuse suddenly stopped. The marauder crew walked away, leaving him heaving for air, bruised and bleeding on the ground. He opened his eyes again, only to see his wife slipping out of the Marauders chokehold, running towards him.  
"Ryan!" she screamed, her feet pounding on the floor in what felt like slow-motion to him, when a shot pierced the unnatural silence and she fell face first into the dirt, barely five feet away.  
  
Dawn was coming, the sun crept up behind the treeline, basking the world in an especially cold morning light. Ryan stared at the skinny freaker across the field, right before it let out another hellish scream to guard her fellow swarmers towards some deer unlucky enough to cross their path. He shook his head to rid himself of the painful memory and started the engine, causing Isobel to wake up.  
"What’s happening?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.  
"We’re finally going home," Ryan mumbled, as the truck started moving.

***

The Drifter was barely able to hold her eyes open, numbness slowly inching up her fingers and feet, nothing but emptiness inside her head. She was ready to succumb to the snowstorm, all she wanted was to lay down and cover herself with her jacket before she’d drift away into a peaceful and eternal slumber. Served her right for foolishly thinking she’d be able to find the lodge in this ghastly weather after passing it once.  
A final surge of adrenaline shot through her veins when she spotted something resembling a snow-covered roof in the distance.  
"Please, please, please let me be right this time," she begged, carefully rolling up the slope, when the tires lost grip and the bike jerked to the side. Unable to hold on to the handlebar with her cold and stiff fingers, Alex let the green machine slide into the snow before she stumbled and fell to her knees.  
Hot, angry tears ran down her face as she crawled through snowdrift after snowdrift, knowing that she would die as soon as she stopped moving. All she could hear in the dull silence between the powder-coated trees were panting breaths and her clattering teeth. She cried softly as she was inching towards the structure in the distance, exhaustion weighing down her freezing limbs. With a pang of guilt she realized that she should’ve stayed at the Fircrest Community, at least for the winter. With all that time on her hands, she would’ve been able to come up with a survival plan, maybe even reach the mindset to stick to it.  
A dry chuckle left her lips as she wiped away tears and snot with the scratchy glove and noticed a wooden lath emerging from the snow right in front of her: stairs to the wooden patio of a small cabin wedged between a group of trees. She sighed and then laughed with relief, fresh tears clouding her vision. It wasn’t the one she was looking for, but a cabin. Four walls and a roof made of solid wooden logs, something one could call home.


	9. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a harsh winter, Ryan finds himself on a scavenging run that brings back some memories.

Ryan shouldered his backpack and walked across the street when he heard footsteps behind him.  
"Ryan, wait!" Isobel shouted, causing him to stop and turn around. "Where are you going?"  
"On a run," he retorted curtly.  
"You’ll never get through the woods," she remarked, a skeptical tone in her voice. "The snow has barely melted, everything is muddy and passes are still closed off. There’s just no way you’ll make it through this with the pickup." She brushed a strand of her long, wheaten hair behind her ear and stared at him with her big, blue eyes.  
"That’s why I’m going by bike," he returned and shrugged the strap on his shoulder back into position.  
"What’s so important that it can’t wait for a few more weeks until the passes are clear?" Isobel inquired, cocking her brow at him.   
"We’re low on meds, the pneumonia outbreak burned through almost all our antibiotics," he answered in a dismissive tone. "I have to visit Fircrest, check in with Amber. The winter was harsh, I’m sure I can trade some supplies."  
"Just… be safe, okay?" she said quietly, her dainty fingers squeezing his arm. He gave her a quick smile and a small nod before he turned around and walked towards the garage to retrieve a bike. The moments the words had left his lips he realized that she knew he was keeping something from her. Telling her he was going for antibiotics felt like such a lie, even though they really needed them, but deep down inside he knew that he wanted to check in on the Drifter, like he had promised her when he left.  
  
The scavenger was riding through the vast wilderness surrounding him, grateful for the moment of solitude and the peace that came with it. There was something calming in the rhythmic hum of the engine, being one with the road, but he couldn’t fully enjoy it. The weight and warmth of Julianne’s body flush with his was missing and there was nothing he could do about it. By now she had been gone for close to five years and on some days the pain still brought him to his knees.  
There was no way he’d ever forget the moment he woke up, the midday sun relentlessly burning down on him. He felt the dried blood encrusting his face, one of his eyes was swollen shut and the metal taste lingering in his mouth made him sick to his stomach.  
Multiple fingers on his left hand were fractured as well as some ribs, making every shallow breath he drew excruciatingly painful, at least until he discovered the lifeless body next to him. It took him all the fight he had left in his body to get up on his hands and knees to crawl over to his wife. He knew she was dead the second her lifeless gaze met his, and he spent the next hours cradling her cold body, crying silent tears into her hair.  
  
After he’d moved her into the house, he spend hours sitting in the dark, plotting his revenge while the white hot rage gnawed away at his insides.  
Ryan knew that there was no way he’d make it out there given the shape he was in, so he focused on the things he could do. He carefully removed the wedding band from his throbbing digit and assessed the injuries before he went outside to wash his face and hands in the rain barrel.  
He stared at his battered and bruised reflection in the water, hands braced on the rim of the keg, the still surface distorted by occasional drops of water falling from his face.  
The certainty of having failed his wife opened a pit of despair inside his chest, so extensive he choked up.  
Heaving for air he bent down into the weeds next to the barrel and threw up nothing but sour bile.  
  
On the second night after the ambush he started digging a hole in the backyard, right next to an apple tree and a small, happily bubbling stream. Even though he had a pickaxe, it took him all night with his broken and barely bandaged hand and the cracked ribs, but he made it. After he had lowered Julianne into her grave, wrapped in a blanket, with some wildflowers he’d picked and placed on top, he waded into the stream and stared at the stars until dawn.  
He hurried to close the pit and placed an unadorned wooden cross at the top of it before he went back inside the house, knowing that he’d never set foot inside the garden again.  
He spent every waking hour of the day sitting on the front porch, armed with his shotgun, awaiting the return of the marauders, but they didn’t do him the favor.

The scavenger stared into the fire, and even though years had passed, he still saw his face every time he closed his eyes. A scar across his cheek, the greyed, slicked back hair, black beady eyes and an unkempt beard above thin lips curling into a sardonic smile – a memory, forever etched into the back of his brain, a recurring nightmare that made him wake up screaming every single time, without failure.  
In the beginning he was hellbent on finding them, he visited every camp in the area and kept asking around for the gang of marauders that might have troubled the settlement’s people, but after a while his hopes of ever getting the retaliation he so desperately ached for dwindled. Two years and countless encampments between Washington to Idaho later, he ended up at the campfire in Highlands Cove, sitting right next to a bubbly blonde who shared her Bourbon with him.  
"You’re not from around here," she assessed and handed him the bottle before he had a chance to ask for it.  
"No," he husked and proceeded to take a swig. He was beaten and tired, since he barely had slept over the past week, and all he longed for was a warm bed to crawl into.  
"Lucky you," she sighed, rubbing her hands together.  
"So?" he inquired, raising his brow. Ryan didn’t want to be rude, but by now every word he uttered diminished the last bit of energy he had left.  
A wry smile curled her lips. "I grew up as a farmer’s daughter in Nampa. Never left Idaho." She shrugged and downed a sip of her Whisky.  
"You’re not missing out on anything," he let out while staring at his hands. "There’s nothing left for us out there."  
"Easy for you to say," she countered, passing the bottle again.  
An hour later she led him towards a small house at the outskirts of the camp, where he immediately passed out in her bed. Isobel huffed with frustration before she pulled the boots off his feet, covered his body with a blanket and curled up next to him.  
The next morning he woke up to something that smelled like french toast and the girl bustling about the kitchen.  
"Sorry I hogged your bed," he rumbled, hovering in the doorframe.  
"Never mind," she dismissed his apology. "Come, sit down and have breakfast with me."

He reluctantly shuffled over to the worn out, round table and sat down on an old chair, watching her nibble on her triangle of fried toast.  
"Camp’s sending a bunch of people on a scavenging run," she said, sipping her tea. "I signed up."  
Ryan gave her a look across the table. "Probably not the best idea," he retorted, taking a bite of his crispy piece of bread.  
"Thought you might be interested too," she said lightly. "We can take my truck."  
Too tired to argue, Ryan just nodded in defeat, unaware that this camp would now become his home for the next few years.


	10. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan pays Fircrest a visit while Deacon and Boozer are confronted with worrisome discoveries out in the shit.

Amber was going over some files at her desk, when a sharp knock jolted her out of her thoughts. She pushed herself out of her chair and walked towards the door to unlock it, when she heard another impatient knock.  
"Give me a sec!" she shouted, rummaging through the pockets of her coat. "Gotta find my keys first." She fumbled with the lock for a second before she finally turned the key and opened the door only to find a scowling Ryan standing on the porch.  
"Hey there," she breathed, looking at him. "Glad to see you’re still in one piece."  
"I couldn’t agree more," he grinned, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. "That fuckin’ winter though…"  
"Yeah," Amber agreed absently and motioned for him to follow her inside. "What brings you here this early? Are the passes even clear yet?"  
"No, not even close. Everything is either muddy as hell or frozen over again, I had to take a few detours to get here. We’re low on antibiotics, I was hoping we could trade. Got some surgical sutures, forceps and a bunch of bandages and gauze," he handed her the contents of his backpack. "If that ain’t enough, I got some ears to trade for credits."  
"Did you run into any hordes up there?" Amber inquired while she inspected the forceps. "Heard their numbers have doubled over the past few months."  
"Nah, not really," Ryan retorted with a dismissive gesture. "Took out a few stragglers, that’s all."  
"I think we’re good without extra credits," the doctor assessed and put everything on a tray to clean and tidy it away later. "Most of the bandages, gauze and sutures are still sterile, they’re hard to come by these days." Ryan gave her an approving grunt. "Let’s see what I can spare," she murmured and stepped over to her office, the scavenger following a few steps behind.  
"Now that I’m here, you got any news on the Drifter we brought in right before the snow started?" Ryan asked in a low voice, leaning on the door lintel while the doc looked through her cabinet. "You know, the one with the gash in the face, Lex."  
"Oh, she split shortly after she got back on her feet," Amber replied, throwing Ryan a glance over her shoulder, witnessing an expression of disappointment crossing his face. "You don’t seem to be too happy about that."  
"It’s just… I, uh, I promised her to check in again," the scavenger explained.  
"I think she’s doing just fine," Amber remarked, deliberately swallowing her anger at Lex’s departure. "She sure knows how to survive in the shit."

***

Deacon slowed down his bike and came to a halt in some bushes lining Waipinitia Road.  
He waited for Boozer to dismount the seat before he killed the engine and got off as well. There was something treacherous about the calm tranquility of dawn, everything appeared so peaceful when it was illuminated by the first rays of sunlight, but Deacon had been in the shit too long to be lulled by the beauty of nature.  
"So, how are things with the old Lady?" Boozer inquired while he walked uphill right next to his best friend.  
"Better," Deacon said, looking at him. "To be honest, I half expected her to bail on me again." He shrugged. "I mean, shit got tough, it’s hard getting used to one another again after spending years apart. But I promised to never leave her, so I’m just sitting this one out." Boozer gave him a wry smile and chuckled lightly as he remembered Sarah’s vows on their wedding day.  
"I think it’s good for her to have a purpose again," Deacon mused, extending his arm to slow the bald biker down. "So I allow myself some cautious optimism."  
"Good for you, brother," Boozer agreed. "We desperately needed someone like her to oversee the farm business, if winter’s gonna be like that from now on, we’ll need all the food we can get."  
"Yeah," Deacon breathed, absently pulling on the unusually loose waistband of his jeans.  
"I think we’re getting closer, so we gotta be careful." He slowed down and took a look around. "This fuckin’ winter threw us right back to square one," he growled, motioning Boozer to follow him up the light slope.  
"God, I can smell them already," the bald biker groaned, covering his nose with his hand. "Jesus Christ!"  
"I know," Deacon agreed as he crouched down right next to Boozer, both of them hiding from prying eyes in the shrubbery. "All the napalm molotovs in the world couldn’t kill them. I mean, look at this." He carefully pulled a bunch of twigs aside and Boozer caught a glimpse of the moving, groaning mass of freaks migrating from their feeding grounds nearby.  
"Fuck!" Boozer mouthed, his eyes wide with disbelief.  
"Remember the sawmill horde?" Deacon asked quietly. "This one is three times its size. These assholes have been living their best lives in the cold, brooding inside their fucking caves, procreating or whatever to come back unscathed to fuck us up in spring." He spat on the ground.  
"There’s no way to bring them down," Boozer mumbled. "Not with all the people we lost over the past few months." Deacon assessed grimly. "Come on, brother, let’s head back."  
"Yeah, I’ve seen enough," Boozer agreed with a disgusted expression. "Let’s head home and hear Rikki’s thoughts on this."


	11. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon fills Lost Lake in about his recent discoveries.

Deacon, Boozer, Rikki, Addy and Sarah were sitting around the huge wooden table in Lost Lake’s main cabin, the one Iron Mike used to reside in.  
The darkness outside the huge windows was absolute, the only source of light the crackling flames in the soothy fireplace behind them and a bunch of gas lamps on the table.  
"Thank you guys for making this meeting work on such short notice," Deacon began, as he stood up from his chair. "As you all know, I’ve been keeping track of the remaining hordes in the surrounding area over the past few months and I my findings have been concerning, to say the least," he sighed heavily and looked at his wife, sitting across from him, her blonde hair backlit by the fire glowing like a halo.  
"The severe cold this winter apparently provides the freaks with optimal breeding conditions, the Waipinitia Road horde went from roughly 450 swarmers to something around 1400, at least that’s the amount of migrating freaks the NERO infrared tracking system has locked entering the cave in the past few weeks."  
"1400?!" Addy exclaimed, letting out a whistle.  
"And you guys are sure these are not just stragglers from the South, shacking up with their northern friends?" Rikki inquired.  
"Hard to say," Deacon commented. "But so far our scouts have not been reporting any bigger groups coming through."  
"The one’s that made it back alive haven’t," Rikki agreed, her voice trailing off, leaving everyone to draw their own conclusions.  
"Fuckin’ hell," Boozer cursed. "How many of our people did we lose this winter?"  
"We still don’t know the whereabouts of Ethan and Renee," Addy said in a low voice. "Without counting them, our death toll is currently at 27 people, four are still in critical condition due to the pneumonia outbreak. Sixteen people have died outside the walls, on scouting and recon missions or supply runs. We managed to recover nine bodies."  
Deacon and Sarah exchanged a long look before she finally cleared her throat to start her report.  
"The harvest in the late summer and autumn months was okay, but apparently not good enough to keep our people fed during a harsh winter like this one. Around a quarter of our grain got spoiled due to improper storage – shit got soaked and is now moldy and infested with insects." She huffed and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Luckily we were able to salvage some of the experimental corn strains from Cloverdale, which seem to be more resistant and therefore easy to grow. However, if we wanna ensure that there are enough provisions for each and every person in this camp – and I think there’ll be some new survivors joining us over the year – we should look into expanding the farm business to grow more grains, corn and produce."   
"I’m not sure if this is possible," Rikki interjected, her brows furrowed. "Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re absolutely right with your assessment, but even though Deacon did his best to clear up the hordes, a steady stream of stragglers keeps migrating from the South. If they make it over the mountain passes somehow, they’ll be all up in our farm business sooner than we think."  
"And we can’t post more guards over there, not when we’re already stretched this thin," Boozer agreed, watching an unreadable expression ghost across Deacon’s face and Sarah nodding slightly.  
  
Deacon stood up again, his silhouette dark against the fire, the dirty orange light of the gaslamp deepening the wrinkles and frown lines in his tired face.  
"Oh boy, you guys are not gonna like this," he began, pacing along the table. "Some of you already know about my contact to NERO."  
Addy’s face showed mild surprise, while Rikki bordered on outrage. Her scowl was the worst Deacon had seen in all the time they knew each other and he’d given her plenty of reasons to be angry at him before.  
"Your contact to NERO?!" she exclaimed. "Deacon what the fuck? You should’ve told me, I am the leader of this goddamn camp!"  
"Rikki," Addy interjected, her voice soft. "I’m sure he had his reasons."  
Sarah and Boozer exchanged a look and the bald biker immediately realized that she knew about all of it.  
"When O’Brian helped me free Sarah last year, he warned us about something," Deacon rasped, his throat suddenly tight as he remembered the researchers face emerging from underneath the helmet, all pale and disfigured. "The swarmers, bleachers, newts and whatnot were only the tip of the iceberg. A byproduct of the original plan NERO had been working on for years. Their incentive was to create some kind of superhuman soldier – at least this is what O’Brian told me…"  
"And you believe this NERO goon?!" Rikki shouted in disbelief before Addy planted her palm on her arm.  
"Yeah, well, I saw him squat jump into a helo that was eight feet above ground," Deacon growled, silencing her.  
"During the time I was working in their facilities on what I intended to be a cure, I encountered a strain of the virus I could neither figure out, nor reverse engineer. Before O’Brian helped me flee, I worked to create a vaccine that managed to reverse the effects of the pandemic on newts, swarmers and bleachers to a degree. But the new strain mutated four times faster and added to the organism instead of destroying it…" she looked at Rikki, whose mouth opened as she tried to grasp the consequences of this discovery.  
"It constantly evolved, so fast," Sarah breathed, her gaze stern. "I saw what it had done to O’Brian and I can only imagine what the future holds, but rest assured, it won’t be good."  
"So what the hell are we gonna do?" Boozer asked quietly.  
"O’Brian is out there, recruiting deserted NERO soldiers and scientist to continue Sarah’s work," Deacon answered. "The only thing we can do right now is send messengers to the other camps and hope that they’ll join us in our fight against NERO."


	12. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disturbing news finally made all the way from Oregon to Fircrest Community.

Amber was on her way over to the practice when she noticed some ruckus just in front of the main gate, a rare occurrence these days, since the past spring months had been relatively quiet. Maybe too quiet for her taste.  
"What’s going on?" she asked Ariel, the gun merchant, who stood leaning against the front of her worktop.  
"Some foreign drifters came in," she shrugged. "From the South."  
"What are they arguing about?"  
"I have no idea," Ariel sighed and gathered her hair into a pony tail. "But it’s none of my business, so I’m staying out of it." She sauntered inside her booth and Amber walked over to the group of people shouting at each other.  
  
"How dare you coming in here like this, spreading rumors about the shit," Graham, Fircrests head of security bellowed. "Get the hell out of here!" His face was red with anger.  
"Do you have any idea what it cost us to come all the way out here?!" a young woman, barely past her twenties, hissed back at him, gesturing towards her partner with a blood-soaked bandage around his arm."  
"Like I give a fuck!", Graham scoffed, shouldering his weapon. "Escort those people off the premises," he ordered and walked away, leaving a bunch of confused soldiers behind.  
"You ‘eard him," one of the guards, a young guy with long, blonde hair, blue eyes and a square jaw, said. "Move along."  
"Just listen to me," the female drifter insisted, her face serious with brows furrowed over brown eyes. "We’re here to warn you about some shit concerning the freaks."  
"We ain’t got time for your conspiracy theories," the blonde guard sighed, signaling his colleagues to return to their positions along the wall. "Guess you’ll find your own way out."  
"One of them needs medical attention, Philip," Amber objected, moving over to the male drifter. "We’re not gonna turn down injured people!"  
"Do whatever the fuck you want," Philip scoffed and walked away. "You’re the one who’ll have to argue with Graham later."  
Amber slowly shook her head before she addressed the drifters. "Sorry for that," she sighed. "Everyone has kinda been on edge the past few weeks, things have been eerily quiet. What happened to your arm?"  
"I just took a nasty fall and cut my skin on some debris. Mara put me back together, but I think having a doc look at it won’t hurt."  
"Wise choice," Amber agreed and motioned the both of them to follow her over to the practice.  
  
"Our gun merchant overheard that you guys are from somewhere south?" Amber carefully inquired as she gently removed the blood encrusted gauze from the wound.  
"Yeah, we’re from Salem," Mara explained, sitting on a chair next to Amber, her feet nervously bouncing. "In early spring, a bunch of drifters from a camp we’ve been friendly with came by to give us some intel on those large hordes that have been surfacing after the winter. Asked us to deliver the news to any camp we’d come across on our next runs."  
"It’s frickin’ pandemonium out there," the male drifter sighed before he let out a small whine. "Fuck, that burns like hell."  
"I gotta disinfect the wound properly before I can stitch you back together," the Doc explained, dabbing a cotton ball along the reddish flesh surrounding the cut. "It’s pretty deep."  
"We were in the thick of it," Mara apologized. "There was no time, we had to get out immediately."  
"It’s okay, you did the best you could," Amber assured her, while she cleaned out the cut. "How did that happen?"  
"There was a camp near Nisqually Reservation," Mara began to explain. "Looked like it had been overrun a while ago, so we decided to check for supplies we could trade in at other camps. While we were scouting the abandoned and destroyed buildings, a horde migrated through the settlement. We thought we might get out unscathed if we kept quiet, but Will stumbled and broke through the second floor of a house, bringing the entire horde down on us."  
"Mara, I’m still so sorry," Will said contritely.  
"It happens," she dismissed his apology. "We made it out by the skin of our teeth and I had to fix him up in the dark woods next to the river." She shrugged. "I should’ve done a better job given I used to be a nurse in training, but as I said, there was no time."  
"You made it here," Amber said, preparing needle and thread. "With important news, apparently."  
"Word in the South is, that there is a new, unknown type of freak out there. People have been talking about superhuman soldiers and shit," Will explained enthusiastically. "A small group of survivors has been working on a cure or something, but it didn’t work on those superior freaks."  
"Allegedly there’s a NERO faction, former soldiers, researchers and scientists, who are in on that whole cure thing," Mara added. "NERO renegades or whatever they’re called. Right now we’re just relaying the information, but we heard through the grapevine that survivors are planning to go up against NERO and the people responsible for this pandemic."  
Amber rose her brow and looked at the brunette woman. "You’re sure? That sounds like a bad idea."  
"Yeah," Mara breathed. "But sitting around, doing nothing sounds like an even worse one, don’t you think?"  
"I will get the intel to our camp’s leader and we’ll figure something out," Amber promised, placing the last stitch. "But for now you guys should stay, get something to eat and a good night’s rest, okay?"


	13. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex spends the summer in a cabin in the woods.

"Fuckin’ hell," Alex cursed as she waddled out into the summer heat to get a few pieces of firewood to boil some water on the old stove. One hand underneath the protruding belly, the other wiping sweat off her forehead, she slowly made her way around the small cabin that had been her home for the past few months.  
Sure, it didn’t look like much when she stranded here the first time, but the stove was still functional, the rain barrel outside carried enough water to last her stay and the small shed in the back was the perfect garage for her bike.  
"There’s no need to kick me," she huffed as she bent down to gather a few logs. "Gotta do the laundry."  
The Drifter had spent the majority of days sitting in a basket chair on the porch, reading whatever yellowed book she had found while cleaning up the cabin, enjoying the sun and warmth. The winter had been one of the harshest she’d ever witnessed and while the freakers flourished under those conditions, countless people fell victim to the frost. She wondered how Amber and the Fircrest Community were doing and if Ryan ever made it back like he promised.  
For a split second she allowed her mind to wander and she thought of Deacon, her heart stumbling inside her chest, the baby kicking in response.  
"I know, I know," she mumbled in a soothing tone. "I hope he’s doing okay."  
While being snowed in for weeks, living off the canned goods she’d taken from Amber’s home and the few supplies she’d found stashed away in the cabin, she finally came to her senses again. As much as she wished to return to Lost Lake, there was no way she could spring this on Deacon, for all she knew he and Sarah had reconciled and lived happily ever after from there on out.  
Life kept her busy and there was something peaceful about the repetitive tasks she had to fulfill during the days and for the first time in ages her accidental solitude made her feel safe and content.

By spring, whenever she went on runs, she’d end up at the cabin after days of touring the countryside. She was friendly with most of the communities in the area, trading food and other goods with the people who lived there, mindful of keeping her distance and independence.  
She’d been too goddamn stubborn to give up her Drifter life, but when spring came around, the pregnancy got harder to conceal and Alex couldn’t fight the overwhelming tiredness and constant discomfort anymore, so she gave in to her bodies desperate urge to settle down. Not in the mood to join any of the few camps, she decided to hole up in the crooked wooden lodge that had been her safe haven since she’d stumbled upon it during the snowstorm.  
The iron door of the oven opened with a sad creak and Alex hurried to place the logs in the dying embers. She leaned against the small kitchen counter and took a deep breath to fight the heartburn that plagued her like clockwork for the past week or so.  
"You’re not making this any easier!", she scolded her belly, grabbed a glass of water and sauntered outside. She plucked her latest find off the seat of her chair and chuckled at the title ‚How to survive in the wild‘. Not that she needed any pointers, but the detailed illustrations of flora and fauna made reading it worthwhile.  
She absently blew a stray strand of hair out of her field of vision before she sat down and opened the book to read up on wood lilies until the water had heated up.

***

Alex jumped awake in the middle of the night, immediately knowing that something was wrong.  
There was this faint pain pulling at her insides and her deep, controlled breaths did nothing to help with her racing heart.  
"Fuck," she muttered, peeling out of her crocheted cover. As soon as she got on her feet, a searing pain shot up her spine, leaving her breathless.  
"It’s too early," she whimpered, slowly walking over to the kitchen table. She braced herself on the wooden edge and listened to the pitter patter of the summer rain against the window, desperately trying to calm the storm raging in her chest. She shouldn’t be in labor, there were still three weeks to go, but there was no other explanation for the pressure she felt in her stomach.  
"I am not ready, please," she breathed, barely able to form a coherent thought. Her instinct told her that she needed medical help, and there was only one place she could think of that might be equipped for that kind of emergency.  
The Drifter swallowed hard and pushed herself up. She had to get going if she wanted to make it to Fircrest before the labor would take over her entire body and render it useless.


	14. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex makes it to Fircrest, but will Amber be able to help her as her condition worsens?

Amber shuffled through her hallway into the kitchen, eager to get her early morning caffeine fix. It was still dark outside, no sigh of the rain letting up anytime soon. She stared outside her kitchen window as she filled the dinged kettle with water from the tap, the streets of the encampment were empty, people probably still fast asleep, oblivious to the grey day that was ahead of them.  
She expected the day at the practice to be slow, nothing but a cast-removal and some check-ups on her list, but she’d have to send a bunch of scavengers out to find some medical supplies soon, maybe trade with camps in the vicinity. The Doctor desperately hoped Ryan would return in due time with the supplies she asked him to find. He was the best, after all.  
The kettle started whistling and Amber filled a cup with instant coffee and hot water, when a loud bang on the backdoor startled her, causing her to spill boiling water over her left fingers.  
"For fucks sake!" she hissed, shaking her hand before she put it under running water. "Who’s there?"  
Fear trickled down her back when no one answered and she tried to convince herself that the noise must’ve been the one of the shutters banging against the wall from the outside.  
She clicked her tongue when she checked the red marks the scalding hot water had left on her hand, when another bang jolted her from assessing her injuries.  
The doctor grabbed a cast-iron skillet and snuck over to the door. Her palms were sweaty and she desperately tried to open the lock without making any sounds, her fingers tightening around the handle of her weaponized pan.  
"What the fuck do you want?" she yelled, flinging the door open, when someone fell into her kitchen. Amber gasped in surprise when she recognized the drenched Drifter at her feet and hurried to drop the pan.

"Something’s wrong," Alex whimpered in-between short huffs, writhing in pain. "My water broke on the way here, but it didn’t feel right."  
Amber stared at Alex’s hands, horrified by the amount of dried blood encrusting her skin and the dark stain between her legs.  
"You’re gonna be okay," Amber breathed, not able to ban the shaking from her voice. "You made it this far." She started to remove the Drifters soaked jacket, when Alex grabbed her arm and stared into her eyes.  
"What if it’s a Newt?" she gasped, panic in her gaze.  
"What?" was the Doctor’s puzzled response while she was prying the jacket off Alex’s shoulders.  
"Amber, will if I give birth to a Newt?" Alex pressed through gritted teeth before she started panting.  
"How should that be possible?" Amber tried reasoning, when the Drifter suddenly screamed in pain.  
"It’s gonna kill me," Alex cried, tears streaming down her pale and exhausted face.  
"I’ll do my best to keep that from happening," Amber said grimly before she got up and hurried out of the room.

Alex curled up, sobbing uncontrollably until another wave of soaring pain split her body in half, making her scream like a wounded animal. She’d spend more than four years surviving in this shit, most of the time on her own and somehow this was the loneliest she’d ever felt. The Drifter forced herself to take deep breaths and willed her spent body to stop shaking for just a minute, so she would be able to catch the tiniest break, just as Amber returned, placing a plastic bowl, fresh towels, medical supplies and a first aid kit on the floor.

"Let’s get you more comfortable," she said, moving through her living room, gathering blankets and pillows to spread on the kitchen floor. The Doc helped the Drifter prop herself against the counter and proceeded to remove her boots, leg holster and jeans, before she poured the water from the kettle into the bowl and started scrubbing and disinfecting her hands before she slipped into a pair of gloves.  
"You ready to do this?" Amber asked, kneeling beside the Drifter.  
"No," Alex breathed weakly and closed her eyes. "But it’s not like I got a choice, huh?" she pressed through tensed lips showing a wry smile right before another contraction ripped through her body.


	15. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With autumn just around the corner, Alex is getting ready to get back on the broken road again.

Alex dropped her backpack on the porch and sat down on the stairs, her legs outstretched on the dusty path meandering through the yard. She begrudgingly noticed, that – even after weeks of rest, most of them spend in a bed – her body was still bend out of shape. A weak, unfamiliar husk she had to get used to – a tedious task for someone as impatient as her.  
_There’s no more time to sit on you sore ass and feel sorry for yourself, Shaw,_ she thought and closed her eyes in the warm sunlight. She listened to the hustle and bustle of the busy Fircrest community and enjoyed an idle moment on this perfect late summer evening, wistful about her oncoming departure. A soft creaking noise behind her announced Ambers arrival, seconds later she heard footsteps on the wooden floor of the patio.  
"Sorry I sprung those news on you like that," Amber said in a thin voice, handing Alex one of the mugs she was carrying. "But I felt like you needed to know."  
"You did the right thing," Alex comforted her before she took a small sip of the scalding hot tea.  
"I wish you would’ve stayed at least a little longer," the doctor admitted, sitting down on the porch as well. "Kinda ironic that you ended up back in that guest room, huh?" A wry smile tugged at her lips.  
"Oh haha," the Drifter commented sourly, clutching her mug. "But honestly, Amber, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I fuckin’ owe you." She looked at the woman she now considered one of her closest friends.  
"I know you had your reasons – have your reasons," the doctor said, squinting her eyes against the bright sunlight. "There’s no judgement here."  
"Yeah, but somehow I wish things were different, you know?"  
"Honestly, Lex, I probably would’ve done the same," Amber breathed.  
"I can’t sit around, knowing that the people out there – some of them my friends – are risking their lives to stop NERO." Alex sighed, staring at her pale hands wrapped around the blue ceramic cup.  
"Believe me, I get it," Amber said, looking at her with a sympathetic expression. "I’d be out there too, but there are people depending on me, Fircrest needs a doctor. That oath I swore still matters, even more in times like these, actually."  
With that said, both women sipped their tea in comfortable silence, savoring this rare moment of peace and quiet.  
  
"I gotta go," Alex said after a while, put her empty cup on the patio and pushed herself up. "If I wanna make it to my cabin before the sun sets."  
Amber got up as well and pulled the Drifter into a long hug. "Well, at least you’re saying goodbye."  
"I promise I’ll be back in no time," Alex voice caught in her throat.  
"Don’t make this harder than it already is," Amber laughed softly, wiping a tear from her eye.  
"Take care," the Drifter breathed, shouldering her backpack.  
"You too," Amber retorted, a content smile on her face.  
Alex turned around and hurried down the way towards the street, where her green machine stood in the shadow of a huge maple tree, gassed up and ready to go.  
She swung her leg over the saddle and sat down, removed the stand and started the engine.  
The gentle thrum of the motor spreading through the machine made her heart flutter with excitement, like some part of her couldn’t wait to get back out on the road.  
She turned her head to look at Amber, who was still standing on the porch, lifting her hand for a small wave, which Alex reciprocated with a grin before she finally rode off.

***

Alex raced against the slowly setting sun, her braids whipping in the airstream, the warm breeze that came with the last days of summer surrounding her like a cocoon. A constant feeling of loss had been burning steady inside her chest for the past weeks and it intensified with every mile she put between her and Fircrest, turning it into an iron grip around her heart.  
She shook her head and went over her plan again and again, to distract herself from the tightness inside her chest. First, she’d stop at her cabin to gather the rest of her arsenal, additional clothes and supplies. After a good nights rest she’d leave the next morning, embarking on her journey towards Portland, where she’d hopefully find a faction of the people going up against NERO.  
The hair on the back of her neck rose when she thought about the showdown in Willamette National Forest, Deacon and Sarah in the hands of NERO, her and the person in the white hazmat suit the only people coming to their aid. A grim expression ghosted across her face, long forgotten rage bubbling up inside her chest. NERO and the people behind that fuckin’ bioweapon had taken so much from her and everyone she knew. Partners, families, friends had been ripped apart, the remaining people forced to survive in a hostile world while the NERO cowards fucked off into their ivory tower from where they watched the world fall apart, unscathed.  
A part of her hoped – no, knew – that Deacon and Lost Lake were at the center of this uprising and all she wanted was to fight alongside the people she loved and cared about for a better future, because she’d realized that there were still things in this world worth fighting for, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An on this note I'll close the chapter "Shit Luck – Epilogue", which was originally thought to be a prequel for the initial war against freakers and NERO, but I've decided to see what SIE Bend will come up with for Days Gone 2 (please don't fuck it up, I'm counting on you, John Garvin!)
> 
> Thank you, to everyone who took the time to read this and maybe even Shit Luck, who commented on my writing or left kudos, from the bottom of my heart. You made coming up with my stories way more fun.  
In case some of you are as hung-up on Days Gone as I am, rest assured that I'll be back for a last hurrah – maybe with some of our beloved characters, but we'll see about that.
> 
> Take care & see you soon,  
Sasou


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